


aurora

by moonatoms



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: But the ending is hopeful?, Character Death, F/M, I'm sorry?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonatoms/pseuds/moonatoms
Summary: The snow was crunching under her feet. It was coming down heavily now and she looked back briefly, at the way the wind and the snow were slowly covering all traces of her. In a few minutes, there would be nothing left behind but the subdued sounds of the winter night, no reminder that she’d ever been here.





	aurora

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Thank you to Antarctic_Echoes and titC for reading over this for me. 
> 
> And sorry about deleting it earlier, I wanted more peace to finish it and also had decided it was more fitted to be a one-shot.

 

There was a harsh breeze coming from the East, bringing snow and ice. It stuck to her cheeks, dusted her thick winter jacket in a layer of white. Chloe exhaled slowly, watched the cloud of air climb high and higher before it melted into the night sky. Her fingers were frozen, and so were her feet. She had heeded the warnings of the locals of course, had bought thick boots and merino wool socks and the warm sweater that the lady at the small clothing store had insisted she had knit herself. The older woman had given her a hat, too, its bright orange colour glowing like a torch in the dark of the night. “A gift”, she had insisted, accent soft and thick, “so you don’t get lost in the mountains” _._ Chloe had smiled at her as she left, a small tug of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes and hadn’t said that she _wished_ she would.

 

They had been kind to her, the locals. There had been maps and well-meaning words, simple questions that could not hide the underlying curiosity of why a young American woman would come _here_ in the middle of winter and darkness to hike, alone, along trails that were meant for summer. And worry, too, because nobody could come up with a reason that did not speak of sadness and heartache. Her haggard look, the cheekbones that were just a bit too prominent and trousers that looked like they had once fit, had only spurred it on. But she had plastered a smile onto her face and pretended like she knew what she was doing. It hadn’t alleviated the worry in their eyes, but it wasn’t like they weren’t going to stop her. And so she’d commenced her trip, a backpack full of advice and winter clothing that couldn’t keep the cold from seeping deep into her bones, away from the city and into the tranquility of the wild.

 

The snow was crunching under her feet. It was coming down heavily now and she looked back briefly, at the way the wind and the snow were slowly covering all traces of her. In a few minutes, there would be nothing left behind but the subdued sounds of the winter night, no reminder that she’d ever been here. It was comforting somehow, to be able to just vanish like this, an ephemeral shadow without shape or form, here one second and gone the next. _Isn’t it what we all are?_ She thought to herself as she continued walking. _Caught in a cruel game by a manipulative bastard who doesn’t care if we live or die. Who won’t listen to us beg, won’t listen to us plead, blind and deaf to the horrors of the world and the pain it causes_. Exhaling bitterly, she adjusted the straps on her backpack and wrapped her jacket tighter around her body in an attempt to fight off the cold. There was an urgency to her steps now, brought on by the heavy snowfall and the numbness inside her, the rhythm of her footsteps echoing through the emptiness of the polar night.

 

In the distance she could start to make out the dark silhouette of a small cabin. Hidden between trees it was almost impossible to see in the darkness, but the shape became clearer as she came up on it. Digging the key out of her jacket pocket, she opened the door slowly and sighed in relief when she found the cabin completely empty. Dropping the backpack on the floor, she slowly started to peel off her wet jacket, wandering the length of the room all the while. There wasn’t much to it, a few mattresses and blankets, a small gas stove, a cabinet, a table with four chairs and a fireplace that still had some logs lying in front of it. When she opened the back door she could see the outhouse a few metres away and in the other direction was a small stream, partially frozen but still alive in the winter world.

 

It was everything Los Angeles was not. And it was everything she wanted right now.

 

Pulling off her hat, she carelessly tossed it onto the table before turning towards the fireplace. The wood seemed old and it took a few tries, but finally the fire was crackling and her hands moved out of their own volition to stretch out above it, fingers moving carefully as the numbness dissipated. Staring down at the lines of skin and bone that were slowly filling with colour, she retracted her hands quickly, shook them as if to rid them off the warmth of the fire they had just soaked up.

 

She didn’t deserve it.

 

There was a kettle on the stove that she grabbed before heading out to the stream to fill it up. The water was icy but she splashed it on her face anyway, its tiny needles pricking into her skin, washing away the colours of the day. When she was back inside she set the kettle down on the stove, turned it on and slowly sank down onto one of the chairs while she waited for the water to boil, watched the little snowflakes outside die against the window pane, wishing she could be one of them. She tore her gaze away from them reluctantly when she heard the telltale whistle of the kettle and bent down to fish a tea bag out of the side pocket of her backpack, curling her fingers around the warming mug as she slowly poured in the boiling water and set the kettle back down carefully. The warmth wasn’t enough to reach the numbness deep inside her, but her skin still soaked it up desperately as if it was unconsciously hoping the tiny flicker of something would ignite a flame deep within the void inside her. A part of her didn’t want to let it. It was the same part that wanted to drop the mug on the ground and watch it shatter into thousands of pieces that still would not nearly resemble the fragmented mosaic that build up her body and soul. The same part that wanted to run outside and lie in the snow, let her body be covered by the thick whiteness and disappear into its depth, feel the sharp needles of ice prick into her skin harshly because _that’s what she deserved_. Not warmth and gentleness and the soft crackling of a fire in the background, but a slow and agonizing death.

 

And yet, she didn’t go outside, did not lie in the snow and stare at the dark night sky. Instead she retreated back to the chair by the window, leaned her head against the wooden wall next to the glass and closed her eyes.

 

It felt wrong to be here.

 

It would never feel right, she knew that. Things would never feel right again. And coming here wouldn’t fix anything, could never even so much as paint over the hole that was left in her chest, wide open and glaring like a black hole and as uncompromising in its destruction.

She had known that even when she had impulsively packed her bag and driven to the airport one morning when she just felt like she couldn’t stay anymore and again when she had gotten off the plane in the small town at the edge of the Arctic many hours later. It felt wrong and yet somehow, somehow she needed to be here.

 

Her choice of place may seem random to everybody, but it held much deeper meaning than she would ever let on.

 

She remembered the night the documentary had come on clearly. It had been a particularly chilly night for a Los Angeles spring. Sat in front of the TV, Trixie and her had snuggled up on the couch, big mugs of hot chocolate in front of them. She’d just been zapping through, trying to find something suitable for them to watch when Trixie had stopped her. Her dark eyes had widened, her face lighting up in awe as she looked at the screen where the Northern Lights were dancing across a snowy landscape.

 

“Can we go, mommy?”, she had asked excitedly and Chloe had promised her that one day, one day she would take her.

 

A foolish promise. Half a year later she was here, in the midst of the Norwegian winter under black skies. As if they knew that she had broken her promise, that her daughter was not here with her, the Aurora had not shown itself yet. Instead, the skies chose to stay dark, mirroring how she felt inside, a room without light, a heart beating even though it does not want to beat.

 

It felt wrong to be here.

 

Then again, everything felt wrong now. Getting up in the morning to a silent house, that creaked with the dying echo of laughter that still lingered in the corner. Going through the day knowing there was nothing waiting at the end of it but the pain of how things had been, how things _should_ be. Lying awake at night knowing it was _all her_ fault. And all the what-ifs that beat against her ribcage with every contraction of her heart, all the if-onlys.

 

It didn’t change anything. It didn’t magically bring her daughter back.

 

She hadn’t been able to stay. So instead she had fled, escaped to the place Trixie had talked about since the first time she’d seen it on TV. It was beautiful and that made it worse. But she hadn’t know what else to do and somehow, somehow it had felt _right_. She couldn’t take Trixie here, but she could go _for_ her.

 

She wasn’t naïve enough to think that she would find peace here, but she was desperate enough to try.

 

Opening her eyes again, she saw that the snowfall outside had stopped and the fire was slowly dying down. It was eerily quiet now, here in the middle of nowhere. A glance at her watch told her it was late and she figured she should probably lie down, even if she knew just like any night since it had happened, sleep wouldn’t come and if it did it would bring nothing but nightmares. But then again, staying awake was just as exhausting, if not more.

 

She didn’t know what she was going to do tomorrow, or the day after. She hadn’t really come here with a plan or anything but her backpack. For now she’d just follow the trails, let them take her to cabin after cabin, through the mountains or Northern Norway.

 

For now she would just keep walking.

  

* * *

 

She missed the light.

 

The way it filtered through the blinds on a summer morning and made the dust particles dance, the way it fell through the trees in warm rays. And the way it brought out the light one carries within and made the whole world seem brighter and softer at the same time.

 

She missed how her life had been in the times of light. Beach days with her daughter and breakfast outside in the spring breeze, cuddling in bed while reading a story, warm hugs and loud giggles and gentle whispers of “I love you” that filled her soul with happiness.

 

Trixie’s death had cut a hole deep into her, beyond skin and blood vessels and nerves and bones, and made the light inside her flicker out, like a fire that has no air to breathe, and left nothing but scorched ash behind.

 

It was reflected in the endless night of the winter she was walking through, where the sun’s fingers did not touch the horizon and where the dimmed colours of twilight were a symbol of how it tried to push beyond and yet could not quite reach. There was always darkness within it.

 

She woke too early and went to bed too late. She spent her days walking and trying to just follow the trails, one foot in front of the other in a discordant rhythm. She waited for sleep to come at night and loathed it at the same time because with it came the memories.

 

Every time she closed her eyes, she was transported back.

 

To hugging her daughter before she left for school and pressing a soft kiss to her temple and wishing her a fun day.

 

It had rained that morning and she hadn’t want to let Trixie ride her bike, but her daughter had assured her that she’d be careful and, in her best Maze expression, had told her she needed to _loosen up._

 

The words had spun around in her head the entire time after the call had come just half an hour later, full of phrases and sentences that her brain would not make sense of, could not accept. The car-ride to the hospital had been a blur, Lucifer driving as Dan and her stared out the windows in suffocating silence. It had been raining still, she’d watched the little drops fall and fall and fill her head with the knowledge that this was all her fault.

 

If only she hadn’t overslept. If only she hadn’t been so pressed for time. If only she had driven her daughter to school. If only she hadn’t let ride her bike instead.

 

If only.

 

In her head in agonizing detail, the image of her daughter, small and frail in a hospital bed that seemed too big, with tubes and wires attached to her, her dark hair a stark contrast against the pristine white sheets.

 

If only.

 

The heart monitor that was beeping steadily even as the doctors told her about the brain damage her daughter had sustained. _Beep, beep_. Even now, she could hear it clearly when she closed her eyes, the rhythm forever imprinted on her brain because of how _alive_ it had sounded.

 

Beep, beep.

 

The world had not slowed down, had not tilted off its axis, but had simply continued spinning and spinning, fast and unrelenting as if nothing had changed.

 

Beep, beep.

 

She hadn’t been able to scream, hadn’t been able to do anything but sink into the dizziness that spread throughout her from her toes up and up through her whole body. Like a wave it had pulled her under, deep and deeper into its darkness and she hadn’t, she hadn’t…

 

Hadn’t been able to comprehend. Hadn’t been able to accept.

 

Beep, beep.

 

Hadn’t been able to let go.

 

Beep, beep.

 

With every single one of her daughter’s heartbeats her own heart had beat and shattered inside her chest.

 

Pieces, shards, small and smaller, she couldn’t pick them up. Didn’t want to. What did it matter? Time passes, the earth keeps moving, life goes on. Trixie wasn’t ever going to come back. _Forever_ , such a long time, and yet her own life was but a second long, just a blink in the face of the universe.

 

Even after her father’s death, she had never wondered much about God or a life beyond the one on Earth. And yet here she was, grasping at straws, hoping for something _more_. Something that would make this more bearable. Something that would give her _hope_.

 

But if there was indeed a God, she couldn’t help but resent him, for everything he let happen, for everything that wasn’t fair and just, like her daughter’s death had not been, like the many deaths that she had walked past in her years as a cop, all of them incomprehensible.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, and yet this was the reality of life.

 

People, places, things – all of them nothing but ephemeral shadows, fleeting, fast and untouchable, gone before they have ever really arrived. Nobody was here to stay and everyone knew it, closer to death with every breath of air. But that knowledge didn’t make burying someone any easier, especially not your own child who by the unwritten rules of life was supposed to outlive you. It didn’t take the pain away, couldn’t make you move forward. If anything, it took away any idea of a meaning of life.

 

What does it matter if we’re all just going to die anyway? Why bother at all?

 

And how _can_ you move forward when you don’t even know what direction forward is in?

 

But all the anger and all the questions died away in the swirl of wind and time. There was no answer and there would never be one.

 

She missed the light, the way it can dance across the sky and fall like rain into one’s palm, how wholly and gently it can fill the universe and shield you from the harsh cold reality of life.

 

She’d come here to capture a kind of it, the kind that had fascinated her daughter so much, to lock it away safely inside her heart, to let it brighten her dimmed soul enough to let her keep walking.

 

But the skies were dark and the night was long and sunrise was still far away.  

 

She wondered if it would ever come back.

 

 

 

* * *

 

She was back in town. The snow was not letting up and her grocery stock had depleted steadily despite her lack of appetite and she had run out of clean clothes. So she had made her way down the mountain and to the small road winding through it, waiting by its side for cars to pass. It hadn’t been too long before one came by, the passengers being a nice young couple that had smiled at her as they had asked her if they could give her a ride, and she had accepted quickly.

 

Now she was walking through the wintery streets of the town after having dropped off her luggage at a small hotel and handing her laundry to the lady at the front desk who promised to have it washed for her. It wasn’t as chilly here, the cold not nearly as biting as it had been in the mountains and the street lights were almost too bright for her after many days in the dark. She wandered aimlessly for a bit, like any place the town was unable to give her what she sought and provided nothing but the briefest hint of distractions for a few moments of time. When she grew tired of walking around and spotted a small café on the side of the road, she opted to go in, ordering a coffee that she hardly touched as she sat by the window and watched the snow fall outside.

 

She didn’t know how much time had passed when a shadow fell over her and she looked up into a strikingly familiar face.

 

“Hello, Chloe,” his tone was soft as he sat down opposite, seemingly oblivious to the way in which she was staring at him, both shocked at his appearance and angry at him coming here and intruding on her…trip? Journey? She didn’t even know. 

 

“What are you doing here?” she couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice but he didn’t flinch at her tone, leaned forwards in his chair a bit instead.

 

“I came to find you”, he said, then: “It wasn’t easy, you pulled quite the disappearing act. Why ever did you choose this dreadful place? I even had to buy outdoor clothing.”

 

His light town didn’t hide the obvious worry swirling in the dark depths of his eyes, or the pain he too obviously felt, but he’d never been one to articulate things well. In a normal situation she might have taken the olive branch for what it was, but right now she couldn’t, couldn’t deal with the forced lightness of his tone or the fact that he was even _here_ , in the place she had sought refuge. Right now she just needed him to disappear again, into the wind and beyond the mountains and the snow so she could continue, keep on walking, keep on with her self-mortification that would really bring her nothing but short-lived breaks, even if she kept pretending otherwise.

 

“Well you had no right to”, she replied quietly, getting up from her seat as she spoke and was out the door before he had a chance to respond.

 

Snow and wind blew into her face as she walked with no direction in mind and it didn’t take him long before he had caught up to her, his long legs an advantage over her shorter ones. But he didn’t speak and she didn’t answer, kept walking and walking and walking until they were crossing the bridge connecting the different parts of town and already almost at the foot of the mountain resting next to it.

 

It was difficult, walking with him right beside her, she could feel her control slip, the small shreds of it that she had managed to hold on throughout all of her time here and knew she couldn’t let him see her break.

 

If she did, she wouldn’t stop, would just shatter and shatter and shatter.

 

They had reached the mountain now and he didn’t hesitate but kept following her even as she started making her way up the steep trail, a quiet presence looming beside her. He seemed taller in the darkness, as if it was building him up into something more. She’d never seen him so serious or silent before, but there was nothing to say and maybe he too knew it.

 

The hike was difficult, the trail icy and she’d left her spikes back at the hotel, but every time she threatened to slip, he was there to catch her somehow, his own gait light and calm. He caught her and yet he couldn’t, she slipped through his fingers and fell and fell, deep and deeper into a bottomless hole.

 

But somehow he was _here_ , had come to find her in the hopes of…what was it he was hoping for?

 

Her gaze found him in the dark and saw his eyes glow red and her breath hitched in her chest as she finally let her mind assemble the pieces she’d long held and her heart beat quick and quicker. He caught her stare and caught _her_ as she stumbled over a rock, held her steady as she found her balance again. But she didn’t make a move to continue, her gaze still firmly on him as she stood in the dark.

 

“You really are the devil, right?” she whispered, but she didn’t look scared at the discovery. Instead there was something in her eyes that was almost akin to _hope_. “And if you really are the devil then there must be something you can do. You must be able to get to Heaven. Or take me there.”

 

When he didn’t reply, just continued to look at her with an unreadable expression she added: “Just, please…I just need her back.”

 

There were tears in her eyes now, invisible to humans in the dark just like the lines of her face but he could see them all clearly, every single feature that made her up and the pain that flowed through them. And didn’t know what to say, couldn’t break her, not again after she’d already been broken, after he hadn’t been able to save her daughter because he could have, he should have, would have been able to billions of years ago when he still breathed life into the stars. But the Devil didn’t have that power, couldn’t fix but could only break, couldn’t protect those close to him, not Beatrice and not Chloe either, whose life had fallen apart the second her daughter took her last breath.

 

And now here they were, on a mountain in the Arctic and he would have to shatter it again, that fragile hope he could see painted across her face that was stronger than any fear she could ever have of him in the face of what she thought he could give her.

 

But he couldn’t. And her resentment would weigh more heavily than any punishment he had ever endured. Her pain already did.

 

“Believe me, Chloe, if there had been anything I could have done, any way I could have saved Beatrice, I would have.” He said quietly, unable to give much air to the words that might as well have been knives. “But I couldn’t, I can’t. When I was cast out of Heaven I was banned from there for all of eternity.”

 

He looked away, couldn’t bear see the expression on her face, couldn’t see her crumble and fall again. So his eyes found the sky instead, dark and gloomy, and let his wings stretch out behind him.

 

“When He gave these back to me after I chopped them off five years ago, they were a burden. They have never felt more like one. Knowing that, despite having them I can’t go, that I couldn’t do anything for your daughter, for you…” he trailed off as he felt the feather-light touch of her fingers on the arch of one wing and turned around in surprise to see her looking at him, a sheen of tears on her cheeks but eyes devoid of any of the anger or resentment he had anticipated.

 

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, simply sunk down onto the snow-covered ground and he followed, eyes trained on her even as she stared ahead.

 

“What if I…”, she whispered finally, trailed off as she tried to find the right words. “What if I died, too. I…I mean I don’t know where I’d go or where she is but maybe…”

 

She bit her lip as the tears came again. “I just want to see her again.”

 

Her words stabbed right into his heart.

 

“You can’t do that”, he replied forcefully before she had even finished her thought. “It’s not your time yet. And it’s not what Beatrice would want.”

 

 _And I wouldn’t know how to deal with it_ , he added in his thoughts but knew he couldn’t say those selfish words, not when she had lost so much more than he could ever imagine.

 

“You don’t know that,” she said quietly, eyes still firmly trained on the night sky.

 

“I do.” He said and he did, because he had known her daughter, had known the bond they shared and knew without a doubt that this was not what Beatrice wanted for her.

 

“There are things here for you still, Chloe…” he trailed off, waited for her to lift her eyes towards his, hoped she could see right inside his fragmented soul as he softly added: “there are people here who care about you.”

 

Covering her hand with his, he pulled her close.

 

“When it’s your time you will go to Heaven and be with Beatrice and your father for the rest of eternity.”

 

She closed her eyes at his words, taking a deep breath before she opened them again.

 

“But without you,” she breathed and he nodded quietly, couldn’t conceal the pain in his eyes at the thought of an eternity without her.

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

She nodded her head softly, her expression anguished as she squeezed his hand.

 

“I want to see Trixie again. I just…don’t know how I am going to do this.”

 

He didn’t have a reply to that, couldn’t do anything but wrap his arms around her and pull her into him, hold her as she cried, his own heart heavy in his chest. He knew he’d be there for her for as long as she wanted him too, knew without a doubt that he would do anything to make this easier for her. She would see Beatrice again, that much was certain. And they would have all the time in the world together, far away from pain and heartache.

 

He could only hope he would be able to follow them. Heaven had never been home but it would be when they were there, when _she_ was there.

 

But for now, all he could do was hold her.

 

And ever so slowly, at first in the far distance and then closer and closer, the sky opened up. It was barely noticeable at first, just the barest hint of green light moving quietly across the dark blue. But, like a piece of music, it slowly grew in volume, a crescendo of colours and light building up and up and up.

 

He could tell the exact moment she noticed it, heard her gasp ever so slightly. Sitting up slowly, she pulled out of his embrace but let her hand slide down to grasp his own silently, her fingers slipping between his and holding on. He looked at her, saw the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes again as she focused on the symphony playing out in front of them, green and blue and hints of violent, dancing across the sky so quickly and yet caught in a time-lapse from which they could not escape.

 

“Do you think she can see them, too? The Aurora?”, she asked after a few minutes.

 

He nodded softly.

 

“Heaven is whatever you want it to be, you create it yourself.” He replied quietly. “I’m sure she’s watching them right now, with you.”

 

The barest notion of a smile appeared on her face and she looked at him quickly and full of gratitude, fingers still firmly entwined with his.

 

They stayed there until morning came, and with it the first hints of twilight.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [aurora borealis (n).](http://www.aurora-service.eu/aurora-school/aurora-borealis/): an incredible light show cause by collisions between electrically charged particles released from the sun that enter the earth’s atmosphere and collide with gases such as oxygen and nitrogen
> 
>  
> 
> Let's play a little game called: If you can figure out which town (most of) this is set in and you're interested, feel free to send me a prompt [here](https://moonatoms.tumblr.com/ask) and I will write you a little fic and promise it won't have death in it (unless you want to!). It may take a bit for me to get to them because I am writing my state examination in two weeks (I want to die), but I will get to it eventually ;)
> 
> Also a million thank you's to the amazing Antarctic_Echoes who made the watercolour painting at the bottom of the fic. It's beautiful and I am so happy you made this! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!


End file.
